


In the Wake of His Sorrows Adopted

by RMSAllHandsOnD



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Adult Edward Elric, Dancing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Hermaphrodites, Hurt/Comfort, Intersex, M/M, Marriage, Mpreg, Nightmares, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Pregnancy, Romance, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Switching, Unplanned Pregnancy, alchemically altered Edward Elric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 22:14:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19732825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RMSAllHandsOnD/pseuds/RMSAllHandsOnD
Summary: Adopted by the original author.Broken and shell shocked after the great war with Drachma, Edward finds himself pregnant with Riza's baby. The human transmutation cost him everything and changed his life forever. He knows it doesn't have to be terrible, not when his friends and family are so ready to love and support him every step of the way.





	1. Blood

**Author's Note:**

> I know this one disappeared for the umpteenth time, but my last email got majorly jacked up, so I'm reposting to a new account. Sorry! Don't hate me.

Edward was brought back to his terrible reality just in time see the horizon light up with a horrendous flash. Somewhere off in the distance, a shell had blown and some sad human had lost his life—just like that--in an instant in the dark. He stared blankly at the darkness once again settled into place. For a moment, there in the settled quiet of the night, he thought that he might have slipped off into a dreamless slumber, or maybe he thought he was dead, sometimes he couldn't be sure. It was all like a hazy dream, both day and night. The sounds of gunfire started by morning light that lasted on until late into the night. There were only a few hours in the darkest hours when the battlefield quieted—with only an occasional land mine that signaled the death of some poor sod. Being so used to the sounds of war and death, Edward wasn't sure if he liked the restless peace of nights anymore.

He tore off his helmet and ran his fingers through the sweaty hair that stuck to his scalp. It was hard to focus anymore. He turned around and lay facing the enemy from behind the safety of his dirt pile. He strained his eyes to peer in the mouth of hell on earth. A few miles from where he lay in the thick mud was a deep scar that cut across the land, dividing the battlefield in two. Any man sorry enough to get caught in that desolate wound might lose his leg or life to a land mine, or he might be shot on sight. No man's land was the infamous nickname designated to that festering chunk of space.

The slightest movement within no man's land would set off another war separate from the one over Amestris: a war over sleep, a war over death, a war over fear and devastation. Edward noticed that the longer this pointless battle went on, the more irrational the soldiers became. Maybe that sudden bomb explosion was the sorry result of someone willingly taking his own life; it wouldn't have been the first time.

The bomb had awakened many frightened soldiers on both sides of the battlefield. An orchestra of gunfire began to rain across the wounded land as soldiers fired blindly into the darkness. It was as unpredictable as it was gruesome. It didn't make any sense; not to Edward at least. He was a man of science and logic, and war was something that his science couldn't explain. The faults and sins of man would always be something that science could never explain.

Dully, Edward looked to his side. Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye lay with her chest against a rock pile as she held her rifle steady. Edward could just make out her silhouette. Occasionally her features would light up as the enemy tossed grenades in their direction. Edward was hardly afraid anymore. He stared at his companion with glazed eyes. Their platoon had been whittled down by enemy fire; all that remained was himself and the lieutenant.

This entire time, Edward had faithfully listened to Riza in hopes that they could help keep each other alive. She was mouthing orders to Edward, her voice muffled by the sudden sounds of battle. He could just make out her directions and nodded. Putting his helmet back on his head, he nestled down into the cold mud and took aim with his rifle.

Another shell exploded near them. The ground groaned as dirt flung into the air. Edward had been dangerously close to having his body ripped in two. He rolled away, coming out of his cover in the mud and rocks. He was exposed on the battlefield. Another grenade detonated near him, illuminating his figure for the whole world to see. He gulped.

Time seemed to have slowed, he could see the different colors of the explosion as the chemicals reacted in the air. He could see the rocks falling; he could feel the gnawing tug on his uniform as Riza pulled him out of the way so that he came crashing down to the ground beside her.

Edward sat on his backside next to his savior who stooped over slowly. Immediately, Edward realized that something had gone terribly wrong. He scrambled on his belly over to Riza and grabbed onto her uniform. She doubled over, a thick, dark liquid oozed from her chest.

"No, no you can't do this" he choked. "There must be something I can do!" Edward stammered as he helped Riza into a lying down position. Warfare was like that; a person could be talking one minute and then gone the next— body blown to bits, legs torn off, chest open and entrails spilling out. Edward was afraid to touch her.

He didn't know any medicinal alchemy, but he did manage to apply pressure to Riza's wound. The night was still once more. The sleep crazed soldiers must have settled down again and drifted off into some terrible dream. Edward lay down next to Riza, she was cold, but still breathing. He used his jacket to make her as comfortable as possible. "It's okay Hawkeye, I'm sure someone will be on their way soon and they'll be able to help us."

Riza smiled. "Edward, I need to tell you something."

"Don't go telling me your life story as if you're about to die," Edward whispered harshly.

"Edward, I'm pregnant," she sobbed.

Edward's eyes widened. "But how could they let-"

"I didn't tell anyone, my job was to protect..."

"To protect who? Well, you sure did a great job at protecting your baby! How could you be so stupid?! You should have told someone. You didn't have to come out here!" Edward paused and gathered his thoughts. "It's Mustang's baby isn't it?" he asked as he squeezed Riza's hand.

She gulped, "please Edward, I want you to save my baby. Leave me, but, use your alchemy," Riza gasped and coughed harshly. The night went on and for the time being the still winter air was left undisturbed by the sound of gunfire.

"Riza, I can't just choose one or the other, I'm not even sure if I could..."

"If you don't do something, then we both die!"

Edward swallowed. What could he do? If he messed something up, he could kill both of them, but if he did nothing he would lose the both of them. "Damn it," Edward cursed, he searched his brain for some sort of answer; if he did do something, he'd have to do it quick. "Okay, but I'm going to have to draw a transmutation circle on your stomach. Is that all right?" he asked.

Riza smiled as tears ran down her cheeks. "Hurry."

Edward began to draw a transmutation circle there in the trench; it was hardly perfect in the mess of mud and rock, but it would have to do. Quickly, and with shaking hands, Edward yanked on his shirt and lifted it; with the blood on his hands from Riza's wounds, he drew a circle on his abdomen. He repeated this on Riza's own stomach and finally, he mustered his strength to picked her up and gently placed her within his catastrophic circle. Edward looked down at Riza in hopes she would change her mind, but she only held onto his hand and smiled up at him, "Thank you," she whispered.

Edward closed his eyes to hide his expression from her. He clapped his hands and brought them down to the cold earth.

The sudden flash of blue light awakened the battlefield once more. The distant booms of shells tethered Edward to his hellish reality. Riza screamed and vomited blood onto the ground; her body writhed in pain as the ghostly light illuminated her figure. Edward stared at her, tears freely streaming down his cheeks now. He was unable to help her; he couldn't even ease her pain. As he stared horrified, his own body felt as though electricity had shot through it. He felt weak. His abdomen cramped, causing him to double over in pain as the blue light dimmed; with panic, he looked down to check that his belly was still intact. He touched himself, letting loose a hiss; the flesh was tender and swollen from the procedure.

With whatever strength he could muster, he crawled over to Riza and shook her. "Riza, I think I did it; are you still with me?"

Riza did not move.

Edward checked to see if she was still breathing only to discover that she had passed. The comforting sound of bombs surrounded Edward and masked the sound of his sobs as he hunched over Riza's corpse and sobbed lovingly into the lapels of her uniform jacket.


	2. Half

The echoes of bombs went on forever in Edward's subconscious. He could have sworn he was asleep, yet still, the sounds of warfare were so distinct and crystal clear. His brow was damp; his body was cold and clammy. He felt restless, tortured like his resting body was a prison of lifelong punishment. Although he was caught in a state of unconsciousness, he swore he could hear the sounds of people's' voices murmur around him. He didn't know which was real: the voices or the disturbing sound of death.

When Edward opened his eyes, he found himself lying in a clean, unoccupied hospital room. His sweaty brow furrowed in confusion. He was sure that he hadn't dreamed up the past few months of war, being knee deep in mud and gore; so how, then, did he find himself in a hospital room? Injured soldiers were usually sentenced to a tent somewhere away from the front lines, not to an actual respectable hospital.

With great pain, Edward sat up, wincing and groaning caused by the sudden ache in his side. His hand came to rest on his abdomen. With the pads of his fingers, he felt for any abnormalities, thinking he had gotten shot. Although his stomach was swollen and tender, he felt no injury.

Edward looked around his room. There was a chair with a coat slung over the backside in the corner. Beside him was a nightstand upon which rested a vase of flowers. Now he was certain that he was no longer anywhere near the battlefield.

He licked his lips; his mouth was dry, and his throat was itchy. When he tried to speak, his voice came out in a hoarse crack. “Hello?” he called out into the empty room. Of course, there was no answer, and he was too weak to go seeking for any replies.

Gingerly the young man leaned back onto his pillows. He closed his eyes, daring to conjure up his recent memories. Waking up in a new, clean and quiet environment after what felt like years of manning the front lines of hell was more disturbing to him than any horrors he had encountered. He knew it was naive foolishness to wish it all had been a dream. Again his fingers came to touch the sore spot on his belly. He scratched at it, wondering what was wrong with him. It felt as though a bubble lay beneath his skin. Did he have some sort of surgery?

He felt weird, out of place in his own body, like something was wrong. His memories presented him with a few familiar faces. Al's was the first, then Winry's. Intermixed the familiar faces of his loved ones was the sore sight of the no man's land. He remembered the mud, all that blood, and a figure lying helplessly among the rubble. Her skin was white. Her brown eyes were glazed over, dead and soulless. Red chunks of coagulated blood stained her cheeks like vibrant cherries in contrast to her whitened complexion. It was almost poetical as well as beautiful as it oozed out of her mouth and down her porcelain, frozen cheek.

Edward's hand clenched in a fist as it rested on his stomach. He couldn't save her, only a part of her. He instantly wished that he hadn't forced himself to remember. He inhaled and along with it came a sharp sting, his chest was quivering and the sudden intake of air pained him.

“Brother!” Al was standing at the door. He looked tired, thin too. The war had even affected even him who was so far away from the front.

As Ed turned his head to the shaking sound of his brother's voice.

“Brother, don't cry.”


	3. Hair

In what reality had Edward fallen into? A dream; a nightmare? The truth? For a second he thought he had seen the gates again and he almost found himself welcoming that cool winded breath that questioned his morals and knowledge.

Al's voice seemed so muffled, so distant, as though he were speaking to Edward from down a long hallway. What could the young man do but blink at his younger brother with a faraway expression whilst the other spoke of battlefronts, calculated losses, and most importantly of victory? The war had ended, and Amestris had won her power struggle over the northern lands.

“How could this have happened, Brother?” Al sighed whilst the smaller male averted his stare from his brother to instead look down at obnoxiously white sheets on his bed. To Al's question, Edward's heart quickened to an unsteady pace before he willed himself to remain calm.

“You mean how could I have been so careless and get myself shot in the ass?” Ed asked, wanting to defuse his own fear and anger over how abruptly everything had ended. Had he not just been bleeding and sobbing all over the battlefield?

“Ed, you didn't get shot in the butt. Why would you even say that?”

“You sure? It feels like it,” Ed said as he reached his hand to his lower back and rubbed it sorely.

Al leaned in his chair and looked down to the spot where Ed had been rubbing. He looked from Edward's hand, back to him, then back to his rear end again. Suddenly, the younger of the two was on his feet and leaning over the hospital bed, grabbing for his brother's hands and pushing his gown away.

“Hey-

“You've got bedsores,” Al said with a soft tone in his voice to mask the anger that no doubt was bubbling up.. “We've gotta get you up and move around now that you're awake. I'll let the doctor know. I tried to prevent them, but-" Al's voice dwindled off, leaving his sentence unfinished and hanging in the air only to give Edward an uneasy feeling.

He could feel Al's cool fingers touch his tender skin. Edward winced but remained still as he stared down in refusal to look at his younger brother. “Al,” he began quietly, “how long have I been here?”

For a time there was silence until he could hear his younger brother's voice again: “About six weeks. W-we couldn't wake you up. The doctors thought it might have been an induced coma due to traumatic stress, like your body needed to shut down to save itself. It's a miracle that you're still here. No one knew what would happen."

Edward could tell that Al was dying to ask him what had happened to spark such an uncharacteristic reaction for Edward. This was so unlike the famed Fullmetal Alchemist to give up and lay in a hospital bed for weeks at a time. For several moments Al's jaw clenched and loosened before he finally gave way to an uneasy silence, knowing it, deep down, to be inappropriate for him to ask so with little regard for class or tact in prying into Edward's emotions.

He must have looked like a sore mess, that sad, destroyed, little alchemist--a ghost of the past trapped in an abused body. Edward heaved a heavy sigh and took the time to comb his long bangs from his eyes. After six weeks of laying in a coma, he would have expected his golden locks to be the same greasy, tattered mess as he had left them when he departed from the battlefield, but his hair was surprisingly soft and smooth and a lot longer than he remembered. He smiled as he ran his fingers through the length of his hair, picking up a piece and bringing it to the tip of his nose. “Smells like your shampoo," he commented.

“Ha-ha, yeah. I, uh, wanted to make sure you were clean and taken care of so the nurses didn't mind letting me coming in to bathe you and brush your hair. I know how nice you like to keep it. It was pretty matted when you first got here, took forever coming it out. Really, Brother, it's so long you could almost pass for a girl.”

Edward did not laugh at Al's hopeful attempt at light humor, rather he pressed his lips together and could feel himself sink into a moment of quiet pensiveness.

“Ed. I was only joking,” Al whispered as he reached out to touch his brother's hand compassionately.

“Com' on, Brother. Don't cry anymore,” he could hear Al's cracked voice say as Edward's shoulders shook suddenly.

With unprepared violence, he could feel himself let in a great gasp of air. He wasn't a girl, but he wished could be, and those sudden thoughts terrified him. For a moment the room was completely white. He was like a child caught in a breath of tears, paused and silent from the brutality of his own sobbing. He tried to let out his gasp, but nothing came. He was stuck until his tiny frame let loose a great burst of tears.

“Oh god. What have I done, Al? What have I done?”

He was hysterical. Al was next to him, hugging him and stroking his beautiful long hair whilst he shushed Edward tenderly. All the while the murderous heathen stared at his hands, focusing in and out of reality, visualizing his pale fingers in contrast to the white sheets one moment, then seeing blood covered filthy hands from his worst nightmare. “What have I done?” he said again as he shook his head and curled into Al's warmth. “Oh, Al,” he moaned until he could feel himself lose all senses of the safety provided by the hospital.

After what felt like an eternity of sobbing, he quieted and pushed away from his coddling brother.

“Hey, we'll get through this,” Al said with optimistic hope. “You're pretty tough, remember? We've been through a lot, you and I. We got our bodies back, well, mostly,” he laughed as he knocked on Edward's metal leg. “And you're just about the toughest person I've ever met. We'll be okay. Won't we?” Al sounded so innocent as he asked this despite his age. What could Edward do but agree with him and give a small good-natured smile?

“I'm just a bit shaken up. This is weird. I feel weird,” Edward admitted as Al got up from the bed and walked towards the door. “Leaving so soon?” he said while trying to withhold the sound of desperation in this voice.

“I'm going to let the doctor know you're awake,” he said before he shifted from the room.

As the young man excited, Edward craned his neck to watch his back disappear from the door frame. Once he was sure that he was alone he let out another shaky breath and pulled his sheets from his legs and tore his grown body so he could examine his belly. What was he even looking at? What did he even expect to see? It was just his flat stomach. Was it even still alive in there? He shuddered to think about the mess inside of his body. He had done plenty of unnatural things in his life, but this was sure to be the cream of the crop.

He had to be smart about this, figure it out on his own somehow. The muscles of his belly were angry and sore, but beyond that nothing appeared abnormal. He would have to work his way backward from Riza's final months. How long had it been since her arrival on the war front?

“Urgh,” he groaned as he dug his fingers into his hair and tried to remember. She had to have been a month or two along. He lost track of the days out there, but he knew that she couldn't have been very far along. How long had she known? He cringed to think that the realization had come to her somewhere whilst out on the field. How horrifying. Edward tried to think of when she might have conceived; he hoped it had been that last night before they left.

“Uggghhh!” he groaned again as he yanked on his hair this time. The realization of his stupid actions was slowly swimming around in his mind like some unnatural drug-induced fog. He was pregnant. Inside his small body existed the life created by Riza Hawkeye and Roy Mustang. A product of their love was dwelling within him and he wasn't even sure if it was still alive.

His chest was rising and falling in rapid succession now. He stared down between his legs at the bed, eyes unblinking and burning from the prolonged exposure to the air.

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

Pregnant!


End file.
